


Gentle Touch

by Smol_Terrence



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Healing, Other, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smol_Terrence/pseuds/Smol_Terrence
Summary: Anakin fled from a place he doesn’t even remember going in, where terrible things happened to him which he doesn’t remember either. Through the nightmare, the dissociation, the lies, the missing memories, the meds, Anakin will need kindness, patience, and someone to trust to recover. But who can he truly trust ?





	Gentle Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I have some key scenes planned, but this fanfic will mainly be me exploring the possibility of langages while describing my favorite landscapes : the sea view around the french city of Toulon, the forest and small villages of rural Alsace, the mountains of Grenoble, and landscapes inspired by my favorite paintings (which I printed card-sized and glue on my wall). And description of pain. Small warning : I actually never saw the prequel, my sister just talks about it all the time and I read the fanfiction she read. Also my knowledge about trauma only comes from Tumblr trauma tag, and some psychology book. Also english is not my native langage ! (Teen and up audiences because I'm gonna describe wounds and blood and pain and no I'm not obsessed with it what do you mean).

Every muscles, a burning pain. Every fingers, warm with blood. Every nails, broken by the incessant scratching against the mountain's rocks. Every inches climbed, a promise of a higher fall.  
Each cells of his body were screaming for a relief, a pause, even brief, between breathes -but he knew that, if he stopped, he'll never be able to start again. So, eyes closed by the exhaustion, he searched the rough stone, not feeling anything under his tortured digits anymore, and just sliding them into any hole they might encountered. When he does, he grabs it ; he does the same for his feet, and then he pushes his weight towards a goal which feels farther and farther away -an end he can't even think about anymore.  
Sweats drip from the line of his brown hair, to his long golden eyelashes ; it rolls on his cheeks, joined here by tears. They both reach the corners of his contort lips, bloody from earlier bites, and the three fluids, pushed by gravity, rolls down his chin and neck and are caught by the ripped neckband of his cloth.  
His fingers find a new notch in the stone. He pushes himself higher.  
When he tries to open his eyes, his eyelids are kept together by a crust of dried blood from an open wound on his eyebrow bone. An earlier fight, which he doesn't remember now. There's also blood in his hair, making his usual soft golden crown a mess like pile of twigs.  
His fingers find a new hole in the stone. His foot doesn't.  
In a flash, his eyes open wide, tearing the web of dried blood, and he hears himself shout with broken voice cords, as his foot slides against the wall, his body now suspended in the void, only held by his left hand -or rather, left fingers. In the motion, his forehead hit the wall, and a sharp shout of pain leaves his bruised lips. His body is shaken by a weak sob, and he feels his throat tighten at the realization that he's going to die right now, right here, so far away from whatever his home was. His whole body is numb from pain, and its only this primal instinct of survival, buried deep within humanity, that drives him to push on his left fingers to extend his right arm higher, even though he doesn't have the strength to fight anymore.  
Suddenly, something grabs his wrist. Or, rather, _someone_.  
Anakin can't look up, but the stranger's hand pull him up, his feet find notches in the stone, and the last of his strength combined with the stranger's help pushes him far enough for his knees to finally hit a safe ground, and reach the end. He can feel the stranger's hold trying to pull him up on his feet, but his body fail him, and Anakin nearly fall face on the ground before the stranger catch him and cradles him into his arm.  
"Anakin, by the Force," the young man can hear ; the voice seems familiar, yet so far away. His breath is heavy, and painful, and the effort of the last hours makes his body shivers under the stranger's arms. He can feel a hand brushes a lock of dirty hair out of his face, and cup his bruised cheek.  
"You made it," says the voice ; and when he opens his eyes, he can see two bright blue eyes looking back at him, both relieved and worried. He closes his eyes again, unable to keep them open longer. He can hear something about his hand, or his lightsaber, but he drifts away in unconsciousness before he's able to listen to the words.


End file.
